


better with a pen

by daysanddaysanddays



Series: body writing 'verse [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Body Writing, Cum Play, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daysanddaysanddays/pseuds/daysanddaysanddays
Summary: And this is just what Patrick needed: to be stripped down to his core, to be treated like he’s worthless, like the reason he’s not allowed to make decisions isn’t because he willingly gave up his right to, but because hecan’t.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Series: body writing 'verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/742866
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	better with a pen

**Author's Note:**

> you wouldn't rediscover 6k of unpublished pwp in your google docs you wrote two and a half years ago, be pleasantly surprised it's not complete trash, and write an extra 1200 words to finish it up so you can publish it literally years after the last entry in your loose collection of other pwp. or maybe you would. i sure did! (sidenote: how tf is this almost 7300 words there is literally no plot it's ALL porn i cannot believe this. anyways)
> 
> once again, this was beta'ed by the wonderful [peatreck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peatreck/pseuds/peatreck), and though it takes place in the same verse as my last two body writing fics, it can definitely be read as a standalone
> 
> title (unoriginally) taken from fame < infamy

They don’t have much time to play on tour. It makes sense, given how hectic their schedule is, how little alone time they have. And they’re fine fucking without the power exchange; really, they are. Sometimes it’s a nice break to rediscover the way that normal sex can be thrilling. That’s not to say that when they’re home they never have normal sex, because they do – there’s just something about being unable to do anything else that forces them to make it exciting again.

But there’s always a point where one of them needs it; whether it’s Pete needing to have control over something amidst the craziness of tour, or Patrick expending too much of his energy trying to fix all the little things that go wrong on tour and needing to just – not think for a while, one of them always needs to play.

This time it’s Patrick. He’s been dealing with venue issues all morning, and they’re not even that bad, objectively. But they’ve been on tour for almost two months now, and Patrick just. Needs someone else to make decisions for him, at least for a little while.

They have an hour and a half before soundcheck, and Patrick approaches Pete in their green room, announcing his presence by laying a gentle hand on Pete’s shoulder. Pete turns around and smiles when he sees it’s Patrick.

“Hey, you,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Patrick’s mouth. “Everything all worked out?”

“Yeah.”

He pauses, trying to think of something to say, of the best way to ask. In the end, the only thing he’s able to say is Pete’s name. His voice is shaky and desperate even to his own ears. There’s no way Pete can miss what he’s asking for.

Pete inhales audibly, his gaze growing intense. “Yeah?” Pete asks, unconsciously licking his lips. Patrick’s eyes track the movement, his mouth beginning to go dry.

“Yeah, please,” Patrick says, his voice raspy. “I just, I need… to not be responsible for a little while.”

Pete doesn’t respond directly. He looks at Patrick and nods, saying, “Let’s go to the bus.” And Patrick never thought Pete would deny him this, not really, but he still feels relief course through him when Pete’s hand comes to rest on the small of his back.

They walk back to the bus in silence – there’s nothing they need to say – and get there in just a few minutes. Patrick already feels calmer from the walk over, from the weight of Pete’s hand and the anticipation of what’s coming.

As soon as they’re alone, Pete gently pushes Patrick towards the wall, kissing him deeply. He brings both hands up, framing Patrick’s face and pulling back. Patrick whines, tries to chase it, but Pete moves one of his hands to the center of Patrick’s chest and pushes.

“Uh, uh,” Pete scolds, his tone patronizing. “You’re not making any decisions right now. You should know better than that, Patrick.”

Patrick ducks his head slightly, just enough to convey submission, and looks up at Pete from beneath his lashes. “Sorry, sir.” The titles aren’t something they do often, as Patrick usually can’t take himself seriously when he calls Pete sir. They only use them when one of them really needs it, and Patrick needs it right now, needs to feel completely and utterly inferior to Pete. Needs to feel cared for, even in this unconventional way.

Pete smiles a little. “I know you are, baby. I can tell how desperate you are and I can’t even imagine how difficult it is for a slut like you to control yourself,” he says. Patrick shudders at Pete’s words, his tone. He needs this more than he even knew.

Pete tilts his head slightly to the side, giving Patrick a considering glance. Patrick has to actively stop himself from squirming. He’s still fully dressed, but the way Pete’s looking at Patrick makes him feel as though he’s already laid out underneath Pete, naked and vulnerable.

“I know exactly what you need, Patrick,” Pete says, except he says Patrick’s name in the same tone he uses when he calls him a slut or a whore. Pete says Patrick’s name like he doesn’t even need to use the names anymore, like calling Patrick names is superfluous at this point. Like “Patrick” is the equivalent of any one of those names. Like “Patrick” just means “whore.”

And this is just what he needed: to be stripped down to his core, to be treated like he’s worthless, like the reason he’s not allowed to make decisions isn’t because he willingly gave up his right to, but because he _ can’t_. He’s already so hard he can barely think.

Pete doesn’t continue his thoughts directly, doesn’t tell Patrick what he needs, but Patrick is sure that Pete is correct in whatever his assumption may be. And even if he isn’t… even if he isn’t, it’s not Patrick’s place to correct him. So he doesn’t say anything, just holds Pete’s gaze, his chest expanding and contracting as he attempts to regulate his breathing. “I want you to strip and lie on the couch on your back,” Pete says.

Pete continues looking at Patrick as he begins to undress, and Patrick can feel himself flushing red. Pete’s seen him naked so many times that it shouldn’t embarrass him anymore, probably; but especially when they’re scening, Pete’s gaze, even when it’s bored and uninterested instead of appraising and analytical, always makes Patrick feel like it’s the first time all over again.

It doesn’t take long before Patrick’s finished taking off his clothes, and the weight of Pete’s gaze rests on his back as he walks to the couch and lies down. He hears Pete moving around the bus, getting whatever he needs, and it only makes Patrick harden more to think that Pete easily could’ve done this while Patrick was undressing, but instead he waited, made sure Patrick knew he was being watched, then left him waiting without saying a word.

It can’t be more than a few minutes until Pete returns to Patrick’s line of sight, but it feels like much longer. Patrick hasn’t moved, obviously, just let himself fall deeper into a more submissive headspace. It feels so good to know deep in his bones that he has absolutely no say in what’s about to happen. All he can do is stay still and let Pete do whatever he wants.

“Hands above your head,” Pete says, and Patrick rushes to obey. He wants to be good for Pete, wants to please him.

Pete straddles Patrick’s spread body, clothed ass resting just a few inches above Patrick’s dick. Pete leans down, his breath warm in Patrick’s face as he says, “Do you know what you need, Patrick?” Patrick can’t quite repress the shiver that runs through him as he shakes his head.

Pete sits back up, smirking as he looks down at Patrick. “Yeah, that was a rhetorical question. I know you couldn’t possibly know what’s good for you.”

Patrick can’t help the way his dick twitches at Pete’s tone, his face heating up further at Pete’s words. He doesn’t know why this gets to him quite as much as it does, but he’s more turned on than he’s been in weeks, humiliation and lust pooling in his chest.

“What you need,” Pete says, voice low and gravelly, “is a reminder that you _ belong _ to me.”

And yeah, actually – that sounds really good.

Something in his expression must give him away, because Pete’s smirk deepens, taking on a more amused tinge. “It’s a shame we’re performing so soon,” he says, bringing a finger up and tracing around Patrick’s parted lips. Patrick only realizes that he’s been panting as he has to actively stop himself, leaving his mouth open. “Your mouth looks so inviting right now.”

Patrick says nothing, having to close his eyes as the image of Pete sliding his dick down Patrick’s throat runs through him. Taking Pete at this angle always allows him to go deeper, further down his throat, and Patrick wants that too, so badly, wants to focus on nothing but trying to breathe as Pete uses his throat as he pleases. 

“I know,” Pete says, and Patrick opens his eyes to look again. “It really is a shame, but no matter – there are other ways to remind you that you’re mine.”

At this, Pete pulls a sharpie out from his back pocket, and Patrick can’t stop the way his whole body gives a slight jerk.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Pete says, pulling the cap off the marker and placing a hand on Patrick’s chest. “Now stay still,” he adds. “I’d hate to have to redo this.”

Patrick nods, actively stretching himself out to give Pete a better canvas. It’s been a few months since they did this, even longer since it’s been something long term, something Pete wouldn’t help Patrick wash off as soon as the scene ends. Patrick’s already so hard it hurts, and it’s weird, because aside from Patrick’s nudity, there’s nothing even overtly sexual about the scene – Pete hasn’t even come close to Patrick’s dick, his ass, actively ignoring them as he starts writing.

It takes longer than usual for Pete to finish writing, and Patrick has long since lost track of what’s being written. He’d tried to keep track of the shapes when Pete started out, but he’s too taken, now, with watching the focused expression on Pete’s face. More than anything else, seeing Pete focus all of his attention on Patrick makes the stirring in his chest dissipate.

When it’s been a few seconds since Pete last wrote something, Patrick slowly lifts his head, giving Pete ample time to tell him he’s not allowed. Pete says nothing, just lifts his hand from Patrick’s chest, not taking his eyes off of the writing on Patrick’s skin. It takes a few moments for Patrick to comprehend the upside down writing. The first thing he notices is the last thing written: Pete’s name, resting just above Patrick’s hip bones.

His dick, already resting hard on his chest, gives a jerk at the thought of that, and he watches as a little precum leaks out while he begins to fully internalize the rest of the message, Pete’s unrelenting gaze still resting on him. Painted down the entirety of his chest in bold black letters, Pete has written, “THIS SLUT is the property of PETE WENTZ.”

Patrick feels the last wisp of tension in his gut disappear as he reads what’s been written, his body going completely lax underneath Pete’s body and gaze. 

“Yeah?” Pete says, dragging the back of his hand down Patrick’s cheek, gentle in a way that’s not really gentle at all. “You like that? Like being reminded that you’re just a slut? That you’re nothing more than my fucktoy? That you belong to me?” Pete’s voice becomes more heated with each question, and Patrick is almost vibrating with arousal underneath him by the end.

“Yes,” Patrick breathes out. 

Pete smiles down at Patrick, a genuine one that reminds Patrick just how lucky he got when he managed to snag Pete. “Good,” he says, lifting himself off of Patrick. “Keep staying still, Patrick.”

Patrick takes some deep breaths and focuses on staying still. There’s so much energy coursing through his body, making him fidgety. But Pete asked him to stay still, so Patrick’s going to stay still. Simple as that.

A whine forms deep in his throat as Pete returns to the couch and slips a ring around the base of his cock. “Shh,” he says. “I wanna get off now, but you’re not getting off until after the show, and I can’t fuck your throat, no matter how much I want to, so your ass it is. Hands and knees, baby.”

Patrick stays quiet and shifts position. As soon as he pulls himself up, Pete presses two slicked fingers to Patrick’s entrance. “Okay?” he asks, and Patrick nods in response. It’ll hurt a little more at first, but that’s what he needs right now.

Pete adds a third finger not long after, and it’s only a few moments after that that he removes his hand entirely, slicking up his dick and bringing both his hands to Patrick’s hips before slowly pushing in. Even prepped the stretch still burns, but in the best way, the way which has him pushing back into it.

Pete shoves him back to his prior position, lifting a hand and bringing it down on Patrick’s bare back. The sound rings out in the bus, and Patrick lets out a hissing breath. “Stay still, whore,” Pete says, continuing to fuck into Patrick without any faltering in his rhythm. Patrick stills himself and lets Pete move his hips back as he sees fit. Lets Pete use him as a means to get off.

Patrick can’t hold in his groans, and Pete hasn’t asked him to, so he stops trying after a minute or so. “Listen to you,” Pete growls out. “Can’t even get off and you still can’t keep from moaning like a common whore.” Patrick keens in response, and he can practically hear Pete’s answering smirk.

It’s not long before Pete drives into him one, two, three more times, then stills, swearing softly as he comes inside Patrick. Pete pulls out slowly and Patrick can feel Pete’s cum begin to slowly leak out of his hole. 

Patrick’s not expecting it when Pete reaches two fingers back into Patrick and drags them back out, taking some of his cum with him. Patrick whines as he feels more and more of it dripping out and down his thighs, his face aflame. He knows it’s silly to be embarrassed of this after everything else, but he can’t help it.

Pete repeats the action a few times before wiping his hand off on Patrick’s thigh. “Filthy boy,” he says in a low voice, and Patrick shivers. “You feel that, baby? Feel my cum running down your thighs?”

Patrick doesn’t respond at first, can’t respond, is too distracted by the very thing Pete is asking him about. His thighs feel wet and sticky and he loves it more than he’d ever admit.

Patrick’s jerked up suddenly as Pete pulls on his hair and _ twists_. “I asked you a question, whore,” he says, and Patrick barely holds back his groan. 

“Yes,” he chokes out, purposefully tugging against Pete’s grip in order to feel more of a sting. 

“Good,” Pete hisses out, releasing his grip on Patrick’s hair and letting him fall back to his hands and knees, panting once more. 

Patrick hears Pete wander off but doesn’t dare move, just focuses on the feeling of Pete’s cum dripping out of his hole and down his legs, trying his best to avoid thinking about how painfully hard his cock is, still straining against the ring.

When Pete returns, it’s with a damp washcloth that he drags down Patrick’s thighs, cleaning him gently. Patrick takes deep breaths and follows the weight of the washcloth. It takes a second for him to realize Pete’s said his name.

“Hmm?” Patrick hums, still only halfway conscious of anything outside of his body.

“I’m going to take the ring off now, okay?” Pete says, and Patrick nods. “I’ll be very disappointed if you come, Patrick.”

Patrick doesn’t think he’s that close to the edge anymore, but he still obediently starts thinking of the least arousing things he can in an effort to make sure of it.

Pete slides the ring off carefully, and Patrick bites his lip to try and distract from the sensation of Pete’s hand on his dick. He’s still so hard it hurts, but he can’t do anything about it right now, so he tries his best to focus his attention elsewhere.

“So good, Patrick, you’ve been so good for me, haven’t you?” Pete says, and Patrick ducks his head, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. It’s not very often that Patrick gets to hear this praise while he’s still submitting – when they’re in a scene, Patrick would much rather be humiliated than praised, so Pete generally waits until after the scene is over before he does so. It’s only in times like this, where the scene isn’t so cut and dry, where it bleeds over into their regular lives, that Patrick needs to hear it.

Pete lightly trails his fingers down Patrick’s back, then says, “Put your clothes back on, Rick, and work on calming yourself down. Got it?”

Patrick gets up slowly, legs unsteady. His ass is sore in the best way, his cock still achingly hard but a little less urgent as he continues to ignore it to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, it seems like every time Patrick starts to soften, he catches sight of the writing on his chest and he’s back to square one.

Pete notices, because of course he does, and smirks as he watches Patrick pull his boxers back on. “It’s a shame you have to cover it up, but you and I both know and that’ll have to be enough.”

Patrick feels his mouth go dry as he pulls his shirt over his head, covering the writing. It’s only moments after he pulls his pants on that Pete wraps his arms around Patrick’s waist from behind. “You look so presentable,” Pete says, low in his ear. “No one would ever guess at the truth, at what a filthy fucking whore you are for me.” 

He bites at Patrick’s ear and pulls away before Patrick has a chance to respond. “Come on, baby,” he says, grabbing one of Patrick’s hands and heading toward the exit. He stops just before they reach the door of their bus, turning around and giving Patrick a quick kiss. He doesn’t go far after breaking the kiss, keeping his forehead pressed against Patrick’s as he says, “Just hold on ‘til after the show, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” Patrick exhales softly and nods. It’s going to be a long night.

~~~

Patrick is on a separate plane during their performance.

He’s not in subspace or anything – nothing they did earlier was enough to get him there, and even if it had been he would’ve snapped out of it by now. But something about the constant hum of arousal running through him whenever he remembers what’s on his chest combined with the fact that he wasn’t allowed to come earlier has him shifted out of himself just enough that it’s noticeable.

All he can remember thinking is that it’s good they’re far enough into the tour that he can do most everything through muscle memory. He feels like he’s been stripped down to his core, and his core is just being Pete’s.

Pete restrains himself during the show and mostly leaves Patrick alone, which is good, because Patrick’s afraid he would just fall to his knees right there if Pete got too close to him. God, he really needed this more than he thought if what they did before the show is affecting him this much.

Pete doesn’t touch him at all until they’re backstage before the encore. Patrick’s still not all there; he’s just focusing on getting through the last few songs when he feels Pete approach, pressing him gently against the wall simply by crowding into his space.

“You good?” he asks, quiet and genuine, and Patrick loves him so much.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, leaning even further into Pete’s space, breathing in the calming scent of him.

“Good,” Pete says. His sincere expression melts into a smirk, and he pushes his hands up under Patrick’s shirt, resting them flat over where Patrick knows there are words marking him as Pete’s. Pete slides his right hand up further, tweaking Patrick’s nipple. Patrick bites his lip to hold in his whine, grateful that Joe and Andy re-enter from the opposite wing.

“You just have to hold on for a few more songs, baby, I know you can.”

Patrick nods, not able to think of anything to say. Luckily, he’s saved from having to respond by the tech that comes back and gives them the signal for places. Pete gives Patrick one last look and then steps away, getting ready to go on stage. Patrick takes a deep breath to center himself, and does the same.

~~~

Patrick doesn’t know if he does well during the encore – hell, Patrick’s not entirely sure he did anything, actually, but no one says anything to him, so he thinks it must have been alright.

Pete grabs a hold of Patrick’s arm as soon as they’re done and drags him into the dressing room they share, making sure to lock the door behind him. The door has barely closed before Pete’s voice hardens, ordering Patrick to undress.

Patrick’s hands are shaking as he unzips his jacket and begins to pull off his t-shirt, but Pete stops him before he can lift it over his head, saying, “No, pants first.” Patrick releases the hem of his shirt instantly, setting to his pants. He’s so consumed with getting his pants and boxers off that it comes as a surprise when Patrick feels Pete’s hands cup his already hard dick from behind. Patrick has to actively stop his knees from buckling at the sensation, stop himself from leaning all his weight back into Pete.

“This for me?” Pete murmurs, squeezing just slightly on the base of Patrick’s cock.

“Of course,” Patrick replies, mouth going dry.

“Good,” Pete says, the self satisfaction in his tone turning Patrick’s gut to molten heat. He steps back then, finally allowing Patrick step out of the pants and boxers which have been pooling around his ankles. Maybe he should be embarrassed, half naked and hard in front of a fully dressed Pete, but it’s just the right combination of humiliating and arousing. He hasn’t softened even a bit.

Pete squeezes Patrick’s hips, using his grip to turn Patrick around so they’re facing one another once more. “Take off your shirt now, Patrick,” Pete says, voice low.

Patrick obeys, lifting his shirt over his head. His hands are still trembling, and catching sight of the writing does nothing to help. It’s smudged, because of course it is – Patrick’s a sweaty guy in general, and doing a full show certainly doesn’t help his cause.

It doesn’t matter, though. Even smudged, the message is still clear, and Patrick abides by its meaning. Pete brings a single finger up to Patrick’s chest, tracing the letters as he speaks. “Look at you,” he says, dragging his finger almost absent mindedly across Patrick’s chest. “You really are a slut, letting me mark you like this, walking around and performing with this on you the whole time…” Pete trails off as he finishes tracing the letters on Patrick’s chest, signing his name at the bottom with a flourish.

“But you liked it, didn’t you, Patrick,” he says, voice louder and with more authority. It’s phrased like a question, but the way Pete says it makes it clear that he knows the answer. Like earlier, the tone he uses when saying Patrick’s name makes it seem like there’s no need for Pete to call him a slut – just his name is enough, means the same thing.

“Yes,” Patrick chokes out, and fuck, he’s so turned on. He needs Pete to do something, anything, right now.

“And why did you like it, hmm?” Pete moves so that one of his hands is gripping Patrick’s chin. Patrick doesn’t answer, can’t answer, but it seems like maybe he wasn’t even supposed to in the first place. “Is it because you want everyone to know what a cockslut you are for me?”

Pete leans in, his lips just centimeters away from Patrick’s as he delivers the final blow. “Or is it just that you want everyone to know that _ you _are for me?” Pete leans in and kisses Patrick, oh so gently, before pulling back. “Answer me, Patrick. Is that why?”

Patrick whimpers in response, unable to form words, but Pete knows what it means and takes it for the answer it is.

“I could’ve pulled your shirt off right there on stage, and you would’ve let me, wouldn’t you?” Patrick nods, even though he’s pretty sure Pete means it as a rhetorical question. Patrick’s proven wrong when Pete responds. “I know you would’ve, baby,” he says, then moves his hand to Patrick’s shoulder and presses down. “On your knees, Patrick, and put your hands behind your back.”

Patrick hurries to comply. It’s not a surprise, but it still causes a rush of satisfaction to run through him when he finds himself at eye level with Pete’s very hard dick. 

“Can you imagine doing this on stage, Patrick?” Pete asks, moving his hands to Patrick’s hair and stroking softly. “Me shoving my dick into your waiting mouth, you compliant and eager, your cocksucking lips stretched around me, all while tens of thousands of people watch.”

Patrick is shaking from arousal, from the effort to not reach out and undo Pete’s pants and get his mouth on Pete’s cock right now. He would never do what Pete’s describing, obviously – he knows it, and Pete knows it, too. Patrick wouldn’t want it to happen even if it were possible. But hearing Pete talk about it is humiliating in just the right way. He can picture it clearly in his head: him shirtless on his knees, desperate to suck Pete’s cock, wanting to hide himself but wanting to please Pete more. The cameras picking up the image, showing it on the big screen where the writing on his chest would be visible and clear.

Pete’s still talking above Patrick, though Patrick doesn’t know what Pete could possibly say to turn Patrick on more at this point. “Well, with all those people watching, we have to give them a good show,” Pete says. His voice is tender, a contrast to the words. “Show me, Patrick. Show _ them_.”

The words are barely out of Pete’s mouth before Patrick’s hands are tearing at Pete’s zipper, pulling down his pants and boxers as quickly as he can. He hears Pete huff out an amused laugh above him as Patrick finally, _ finally _, puts his mouth on Pete’s dick, making sure to put his hands behind his back once more as he starts sucking in earnest. 

It’s only a minute or so before Pete begins to speak. “You know,” Pete says, winding a hand into Patrick’s hair as he bobs his head up and down Pete’s cock. “I’d ask if you’re – _ ah _ – embarrassed by how slutty you are—” Pete pauses for a second to let out a loud groan which only encourages Patrick to move faster, take more of Pete into his mouth. 

Pete pushes Patrick back, though, pausing to smirk down at Patrick as he tries not to whine at the loss of Pete’s dick. “I’d ask if you’re ever embarrassed by how slutty you are,” he repeats, “But I know you don’t have any shame anymore. How could you, when you act like such a cheap whore?”

The words hit Patrick like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t have time to internalize them, though, before he’s pulled roughly back on to Pete’s dick. Pete doesn’t choke him on it, mindful of not damaging Patrick’s voice too much, but Patrick wishes he would. He wants to feel Pete’s cock block his airway until the only thing he can feel is Pete, Pete, Pete.

He tries to push himself down further, but Pete pushes him back, once more withdrawing his cock from Patrick’s mouth. “Fucking whore,” Pete hisses out, slapping Patrick across the face with his dick as he does so. Patrick revels in the sting. “You get what I give you, and nothing more. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Patrick says, voice unsteady. He knows that once the scene is done he’ll be thankful for it, for Pete looking after his voice when he’s too far gone to do it himself, but in the moment he wants it so badly that everything else seems irrelevant.

Pete presses two fingers down on Patrick’s tongue, forcing his mouth open again. “Tell me,” he says, casual as you like, as if Patrick isn’t kneeling naked at his feet with Pete’s fingers in his mouth. “What does it say on your chest, Patrick?” He pushes his fingers further into Patrick’s mouth, making him gag just a little, before pulling them out. He wipes them off on Patrick’s cheek as he withdraws them, coating Patrick’s cheek in his own spit. Patrick shivers at the sensation.

“It says,” Patrick starts, having to swallow once before continuing. “It says that I belong to you.”

Pete shakes his head. “No, Patrick,” he says. “What does it _ actually _ say?”

Patrick can feel his face heating up. As always, saying it out loud is so much more humiliating than anything else. He’s been thinking about the words almost non-stop since Pete wrote them almost eight hours ago – it shouldn’t be this hard to say them out loud.

Patrick takes a deep breath before speaking. “It says, ‘This slut is the property of Pete Wentz,’” Patrick recites, his gut tightening and voice shaking. He feels so embarrassed he could die, but he’s still hard as a rock, his cock twitching against the very words he just said.

Pete smiles down at Patrick. “That’s right,” he says. “You’re my slut. And you’ve been so good for me, wearing my mark, letting me use your body for my own pleasure and asking for nothing in return. For that, I’m going to let you fuck me. Does that sound good to you, Patrick?”

“Yes,” Patrick breathes out. “Yes, please, yes.” It’s been so long since they’ve switched, and usually Patrick is fine with that; he loves having Pete’s cock inside him. But being inside of Pete, now that Pete’s said it, feels like the only thing he could ever want.

“Good,” Pete says. “Go lie down on the sofa.”

Patrick really only considers getting to his feet for a second or two before beginning to crawl to the sofa. He knows Pete didn’t ask him to, but it doesn’t feel right to stand up right now, and it’s not like Pete’s going to argue against him staying on his knees.

The sofa isn’t far from where they are, so it only takes a few moments before Patrick arrives and pushes himself up onto the sofa on his back. 

“God, Patrick,” he hears Pete say, and turns his head to look as Pete approaches. He’s taken off his pants completely now, and is holding lube in his hand. He sounds stricken. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Patrick flushes at the praise, at the fact that he managed to shake Pete out of his role, even just a little bit. “Thank you, sir.” 

Pete doesn’t respond, instead sitting down on top of Patrick, straddling his chest the same way he had earlier. He inhales quickly, seeming to recenter himself before looking down at Patrick. 

“Take this,” Pete says, passing Patrick the lube as he grabs the hem of his own t-shirt and takes it off. Patrick watches raptly even though he’s seen Pete shirtless so many times it shouldn’t even register anymore. He’s still stunning, and sometimes it’s still hard for Patrick to believe that someone this hot is his boyfriend.

Patrick is so distracted just looking at Pete that he almost doesn’t notice Pete taking the lube back from him. Some of the confusion he’s feeling must show on his face because Pete gives an amused huff when their eyes meet. 

“Don’t tell me you thought I’d allow a dirty whore like you touch me,” he says, a gleam in his eyes that deepens when he notices the way Patrick’s breathing grows slightly more rapid at his words. “No, I’m going to prep myself. You are going to stay completely still and watch me. You’re lucky I’m even letting you do that.”

He puts a hand on Patrick’s cheek. “Do you understand, Patrick? I don’t want to feel your hands on me, and I’ll be very upset if I do.”

Patrick nods slightly. “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

Patrick shivers underneath Pete. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good boy,” Pete says, pouring a generous amount of lube onto his hand. Then, with slow, purposeful movements, he lifts his weight off of Patrick and brings his fingers back to his hole.

“_Oh_, fuck,” he says, pressing down for balance with the hand resting on Patrick’s chest. It’s clearly been too long since Pete bottomed based on his reaction just to his first finger, and Patrick absently files that away for later, thinking that after the scene ends he should talk to Pete about switching more often when they’re fucking normally.

Any thoughts about future conversations are quickly forgotten as Pete slips his second finger in, and Patrick’s entire world is narrowed down to Pete stretching himself open. The sounds he’s making are delicious, little moans and gasps, and Patrick aches to touch him, wishes he were the one with his fingers knuckle deep in Pete’s ass. Wants to be the one making Pete feel that good. _ Soon_, he reminds himself, pressing his hands down into the couch in an effort to avoid disobeying Pete.

Pete notices this, because of course he does, and gives another huff of amusement. “Like what you see?” he says wryly, with the confidence of someone who knows the answer to the question he just asked. 

“Yes.” Patrick chokes out an answer anyways, clenching his fists. There is so much more he wants to say, but he also wants to get his dick in Pete as soon as possible, so he stops himself there.

Unfortunately, Pete seems to be determined to draw this out and tease Patrick half to death. He fits a third finger in next to the other ones and keeps up his rhythm without pausing as he says, “So fucking desperate for me, aren’t you? You can barely keep yourself from touching me.”

Patrick doesn’t respond; he doesn’t even know how he would. He just keeps watching Pete’s fingers, letting out nothing more than a whine, his fingers twitching with the need to touch.

After a few more excruciating moments that seem to last a lifetime, Pete finally withdraws his hand from his ass and grabs the lube, once more pouring a generous amount on his hand.

His hand is slippery when it comes in contact with Patrick’s dick, coating it with lube. Patrick pinches his eyes shut and forces himself to think about every unsexy thing he can. He won’t let this end before it’s started. He won’t come without Pete’s permission, and he’s certainly not going to come before he gets his dick in Pete’s ass.

Thankfully, Pete only gives Patrick’s cock a few more strokes before he picks it up and lines himself up.

“Remember, slut. No touching.”

Patrick groans in a combination of pleasure and frustration as Pete slowly sinks down at the end of his sentence. Patrick hadn’t realized he wasn’t going to be able to touch even after Pete finished prepping himself, and his body aches to reach out for Pete, to rest his hands on Pete’s thighs. 

Pete feels so good around him, tight and hot in all the best ways, that it takes him a moment to realize Pete has paused and isn’t yet fucking himself on Patrick’s cock. 

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to me, whore? I am letting you fuck me, after all,” Pete asks, and even though his voice is still commanding Patrick is gratified to hear a hint of breathlessness sneak its way in.

“Thank you,” Patrick says, and he isn’t even surprised at how thin and needy his voice sounds, how genuine his tone is. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Pete says with a smirk, and then starts fucking himself on Patrick’s cock in earnest. All Patrick can do is lie still and take it, let Pete use him to get off.

Patrick’s biting his lip in an effort to keep from reacting to the sensations racking his body, and he doesn’t even realize until he releases it, unable to stop the involuntary “Fuck,” that slips out. 

Pete ignores him except for pressing down harder with the hand balanced on Patrick’s chest. He moves it downward and splays it out over the center of the message he wrote earlier.

“Look at you, Patrick,” Pete says, slowing his pace. “So eager to please me, so desperate to be good for me.”

Patrick whines and nods, letting out a gasp as Pete clenches around him. 

“Everything in you is just dying to touch me, isn’t it?” Pete continues, settling down so that he’s sitting all of his weight on Patrick, Patrick’s cock buried to the hilt. “But you won’t. Because you’re a good fucktoy, and good fucktoys don’t do anything without permission.”

Patrick has to look away from Pete, or the combination of his words and the image of Patrick’s dick sliding into Pete’s ass is going to make him come right after Pete praised him for being obedient. He redirects his gaze to the ceiling, but unfortunately a plain white ceiling isn’t a very good distraction against the feeling of Pete clenching around his cock.

It turns out not to matter much, anyways, because Patrick’s gaze is immediately brought back to Pete as soon as Pete begins to grunt in the way he always does when he’s especially close. Pete’s hand is working over his dick, and his eyes, ironically, are closed in pleasure. Patrick watches, breath hitching, as Pete sinks down onto Patrick’s cock once more and begins to come. 

The feeling of Pete’s come hitting his chest coupled with his sounds of pleasure almost does Patrick in; he’s so close he’s afraid even Pete easing Patrick’s dick out of his ass might trigger his orgasm. And that’s not even mentioning how hot the image of Pete’s cum covering the writing on Patrick’s chest is; Patrick hadn’t thought anything could make what was written even more arousing, but seeing it streaked with cum proves him wrong.

Pete’s eyes flutter open as he lets out a few deep breaths. With an amused quirk to his mouth, he continues to grind down despite how oversensitive Patrick knows he must be. Patrick hears something hit the couch and is surprised to find that it’s his right hand, that he’d lifted it off the couch to try and touch without realizing. He feels almost dizzy with the effort it’s taking to keep his hands off Pete.

Finally, Pete eases himself off of Patrick’s cock and through some miracle of sheer force of will Patrick doesn’t come. He does, however, begin to beg. “Please,” he says, swallowing in order to bring moisture back to his mouth. “Please, Pete, sir, please—”

“Quiet, slut,” Pete says, looking down at Patrick through hooded eyes. “You’re ruining my afterglow. If I wanted to hear you beg I would’ve said so.”

Patrick’s mouth snaps closed at that. He feels taut as a wire, and though his arousal gets a little more manageable with each second that passes where Pete doesn’t do anything, he still feels as though any little thing could cause him to break.

Pete begins to run his index and middle fingers down Patrick’s chest, collecting his cum before it dries there. When he feels his fingers are suitably coated, he looks back at Patrick and says, “Open.” Patrick lets his mouth fall open again and is rewarded by Pete sticking the cum-covered fingers in his mouth. Patrick cleans them off as best as he can before Pete removes them in order to scoop up more cum from Patrick’s belly.

Once again, he brings them back up to Patrick’s mouth to be sucked clean. Patrick’s beginning to fall into a rhythm, a bit, when at long last Pete finally puts a hand Patrick’s cock. It’s too loose to do anything on its own, but the promise makes Patrick’s chest heave, makes his hips lift off the sofa to try and chase the feeling.

“You think you could come just from this?” Pete asks in a murmur. “Just from the taste of my cum in your mouth and my hand on your dick?”

Patrick whimpers an affirmative as Pete goes to collect the last bit of his cum from Patrick’s chest. As soon as he places his fingers back in Patrick’s mouth, he starts stroking Patrick’s cock in earnest and says, “Come whenever you want to.”

The words are barely out of Pete’s mouth before Patrick lets out a strangled, “Oh, God,” and comes across Pete’s hand and his own stomach. The relief of release after almost half a day of denial is so great that Patrick feels like he’s blacking out.

The first thing he feels when he comes back to himself is Pete’s fingers, once again, running up and down his chest. He brings them up to Patrick’s mouth again once they’re coated in Patrick’s cum. Patrick laps at them, too tired to do anything more, and feels a rush of contentment run through him as Pete leans down and kisses him, softly.

“Mmm,” Pete says when he pulls back, his voice quiet and fond. His smile is gentle and Patrick can’t help it when his mouth curves into a smile as well. “Maybe I should’ve written ‘cumslut’ on your chest with the way you’ve been taking it so eagerly.”

Patrick gives a small huff, not arguing the point, and then finally, finally raises his arms up and pulls Pete on top of him. The physical connection is all he needs to go from feeling content to feeling genuinely happy.

Pete lifts his head up so he and Patrick are looking eye to eye before saying, “Love you. I hope this helped.”

“Love you, too,” Patrick says, letting his eyes slip closed as he pulls Pete even impossibly closer to him. “It was exactly what I needed.”

“I’m glad,” Pete says, “and not only because it was fucking hot as hell. We definitely have to do this again sometime.”

Patrick opens his eyes again and smiles at Pete. “Thanks, by the way, for not letting me fuck up my voice. I totally would’ve, and tomorrow’s show would’ve sucked if I had.”

“It was mostly self preservation,” Pete acknowledges with a small laugh. “I’d’ve never heard the end of it if I had gone and fucked your throat.”

Patrick laughs along with him, not even trying to deny it, before he sighs. “We’ve got to get up soon, don’t we?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Pete says, his mouth twisting into a rueful expression. “Gotta hit the road soon to get to tomorrow’s venue.” He pauses and looks down at Patrick carefully, hesitating only for a second before saying, “It’s not like they can leave without us, though. Take a quick nap and I’ll wake you up before Andy and Joe send out the search dogs.”

Usually, Patrick would fight that sentiment a little more – he hates running late, let alone being the reason why they’re running late – and Pete’s already taken care of him so much today. 

Then again, Pete’s already taken care of him so much today. What’s one more thing? “Alright,” he says on a sigh. “Thanks.”

The last thing Patrick sees before his eyes slide closed is Pete waving his hand in the air in a dismissive notion. The last thing he hears before he falls asleep is Pete saying, “Please. You don’t ever have to thank me for taking care of you.”


End file.
